


Death and Taxes

by Zhie



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Advice, Bunniverse, Gen, Taxes, debate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:41:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zhie/pseuds/Zhie
Summary: FIngolfin has developed a fantastic new plan -- unfortunately, Fingon has a completely different philosophy.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	Death and Taxes

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a screencap that was posted in the Erestor's Library discord by Moiety, which began with the line 'Bisexuals are not confused' and ended with 'Bisexuals are only slightly confused about a few things - like taxes and AP calc and the occasional riddle'.

“I understand everything you explained about your plan,” said Fingon once his father finished detailing the changes that were forthcoming to the kingdom. His father smiled and began to dismiss the council. “Except the taxes.”

Fingolfin sighed. Just once, he would have liked to have reached the end of a meeting without a debate with his son. Had it been anyone else, Fingolfin might have dismissed the group anyhow and dealt with the issue later, if at all. “What do you not understand?” he asked calmly.

“Taxes.”

“What about them?”

Fingon lifted up the document outlining the plan. He turned through several pages of it. Someone coughed politely. The document was set back down. “I am slightly confused about the taxes.”

“Do you need me to explain what taxes are?” prodded Fingolfin. Some of the councillors were already gathering their things.

Fingon rubbed his nose to chase off a sneeze. He shook his head. “No. I read the briefing from Finrod. I know what you want to use them for. However, I have faith in our subjects. I believe they will contribute what is necessary to build the military.”

“I appreciate your faith, but this is a way to make sure it is equal,” Fingolfin said. 

Once again, Fingolfin began to dismiss the council, but Fingon shook his head. “No. Not really.”

Fingolfin drummed his fingers on the table and scrutinized his eldest child. “In order for it to be an equally shared burden, we are going to tax everyone. The original recommendation was to require each person give the same amount, but it was pointed out to me that using a percentage would be better. So we are using the same template for everyone. It will be a total of five percent of each person’s total income. Will you please stop shaking your head at me?”

“I would stop if this made sense, but you are going to have so many issues with this. First, people who are earning the least are going to have less money to live at a level that is practically poverty sometimes. And are you taxing children who are helping to keep food on the table for their families?” asked Fingon.

“As I said, everyone will be taxed equally,” Fingolfin reiterated. 

“But, that is wrong,” Fingon declared. “You said income. What if someone owns a business, and they take a salary equal to others who work for them. All of them are taxed the same amount based on the percentage, right?”

“Yes, exactly,” Fingolfin said with a note of relief.

“Wrong. The person with the business can say they only take a certain salary amount, and then, they can put the money they do not get that is a profit back into their business. And many of those businesses are on the same land as the place they live. They can use all sorts of sneaky ways to pretend they have lower incomes than they really do,” argued Fingon. “They might also lie about it.”

“There is always a possibility that people might lie,” said Fingolfin. “That is why we are also going to require the people who have employees to report their wages. Then, we will know with certainty what some of those amounts should be.”

“That is still an unfair advantage for those at the top,” fretted Fingon. “There needs to be a better system. Honestly, what is wrong with how things have been?”

“You are relying on the generosity of others,” Fingolfin reminded Fingon. “Not everyone wants to donate to the needs that the military has.”

“But, here is the problem--right now, we have people who make a lot of money and give a lot of money for the needs of the military. If everyone is required, then a lot of those people will stop,” Fingon said.

Fingolfin nodded. “They will not need to donate anymore because they will be taxed, and everyone will be taxed the same.”

“It is not the same,” Fingon continued to debate. “What will you do if we are short projections?”

“This is not something that will only happen once. This will be monthly, and we are willing to raise the percentage if needed, if we find out we are not acquiring the expected funds.”

Fingon rubbed his head, obviously distraught. “So, what are you going to do? Tax the people ten percent? Fifteen? Thirty? Half?” Fingon shook his head again. “Donations allow everyone to decide what they think is best. They have no voice in the government, so this is how they ‘vote’.”

“Your model is not sustainable,” Fingolfin stated firmly.

“Yes, it is! It has been working so far. People who have a lot of money and resources do not want to jeopardize that. They are willing to give more to protect what they have. If you take this away from them, you take away their ability to choose.” Fingon ground his teeth. “It is exactly why some of them left Valinor. They would lose their freedom once again.”

“What is more important--complete freedom or safety and security? My word is final,” added Fingolfin before Fingon could speak again. He motioned for the others to leave, and the chamber cleared out, save for him and his son. “Next time you take issue with my decree, I would appreciate it if you would not embarrass me in front of my councilors.”

Fingon rubbed his face and tried to bottle up the anger he felt. When he did speak again, he said, “Find someone else to oversee Dor-lómin. I will not go back there and tax the people.”

“That is ridiculous,” scolded Fingolfin. “You cannot simply throw a tantrum every time I say something you do not agree with.”

“You still see me as a child,” accused Fingon. 

“When you act like this, I do,” Fingolfin returned.

“A child should not be the ruler of a realm.”

“Now you are being childish.”

“I am not going back there.” Fingon looked at Fingolfin. 

“You would be insubordinate to me--to your king?” questioned Fingolfin. “To your father?”

“Throw me in jail, then,” Fingon flippantly replied.

Fingolfin stared at Fingon for a while. “Hador would be appreciative to rule those lands from your stronghold.”

Slowly, Fingon nodded. “I believe you mean his stronghold.”

There was a small shake of his head, but Fingolfin then waved his hand. “Fine. I release you from the responsibility of Dor-lómin. You shall remain here, but not in jail. Your tactical mind is still of use at council.”

Fingon stood, bowed, and began to step away. He came back to the table as he reached into his pocket. He withdrew a pouch and dropped a few coins on the table in front of his father. “Your taxes. Expect nothing more from me. I have paid my due.” He turned to walk away.

Fingolfin picked up one of the pieces of silver and turned it in his fingers. As Fingon reached the door, he called out, “If power, status, glory, and land were not your motivation, whyever did you leave Valinor?”

At the door, Fingon turned. “If you need to ask me that, then you do not know me,” he said before he left.

Once Fingolfin was alone, he folded his hands and stared at the door. “I know you well enough to know you are exactly how my brother was.” He looked down at the money, and flung it from the table.

  
  



End file.
